


Boyhood Bravery

by ToshiChan



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King, IT 2017
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Canonical Character Death, Coming Out, Depression, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, M/M, Queer Themes, Recovery, Richie recovers, Therapy, but it does get better
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-12 09:10:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20561840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToshiChan/pseuds/ToshiChan
Summary: The first time Richie is on stage after everything that happened in Derry, he finds himself frozen.(Richie tries to move on)





	Boyhood Bravery

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers ahead for IT Chapter 2

The first time Richie is on stage after everything that happened in Derry, he finds himself frozen.

It’s not like what happened when Mike called him the first time. He’s not forgetting jokes or forcing down the burning acid rising in his throat. He just steps out onto the stage and forgets how to walk, how to move, how to talk, how to breathe.

(Dimly he realises how this must have been how Eddie felt when he had his asthma attacks)

He’s sure the audience are staring at him expectantly, not that he can see them past the blinding bright lights that bombard him from every angle. He thinks that his manager is probably backstage having a quiet freak out.

Richie hasn’t been all too reliable lately, what with fucking up his last show and then vanishing off to some shit hole town in the middle of nowhere for an indefinite amount of time. This show is meant to be his return to form, his chance to redeem himself.

Instead, he’s just frozen up and he’s not sure he’ll thaw out anytime soon.

He wets his lips, once, then twice, and tries to pick up the water on the stool. His fingers slip against the glass and it wobbles nervously. A few people in the audience titter, their first line of life since this whole debacle started. They probably think he’s doing a bit. Maybe they think he’s stoned or something equally funny that’ll become the basis for a great show. They’re waiting anxiously, excited for a payoff that’s never coming. They don’t speak or jeer him off the stage. They wait patiently and Richie fucking wishes they’d start yelling at him, start jeering back like Eddie always did.

Eddie.

Oh god he wants Eddie.

He wants to talk about Eddie. He wants to turn this one-hour comedy show into a deep and meaningful about his best friend, the man he loved, the man he lost and who is still lost somewhere, trapped in Derry while the rest of them get to leave. He wants to sit down and cry and get advice about what to do now, because how the fuck is he meant to know what to do now?

He curls his fingers over his palm and wishes the scar was still there. He wants a way to feel connected to the losers. Without it, he can feel the memories fading, slipping away, washing themselves down the water like a paper boat tossed to and fro.

Whispering breaks out from the audience and Richie can feel the blood drain from him. This show isn’t going to come out

(like him)

and he can’t stay here pretending it will.

Finally his feet let him move and when he runs from the stage, he thinks he isn’t the only one who’s relieved.

* * *

Nobody in his life knows what’s wrong with him because they don’t know about Eddie. How can they? Everything that happened in Derry is being kept a secret. Poor Myra doesn’t get to know what happened to her husband. Richie is luckier then her, and he also isn’t.

He held Eddie as he died and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

Maybe if they’d never gone back to Derry, then Richie wouldn’t feel like this. He wouldn’t have even remembered Eddie, remembered his feelings. He wouldn’t be so lost now, so empty and drained and depressed and lonely.

Eddie always knew which way to go. He had this map built into him. When his feet led him down a path, he always ended up right where he wanted to be.

Had he wanted to end up in the Derry sewers, dying, scared and sad but content because he’d finally done something right, finally helped the club?

Richie holds his phone now, and considers dialling it. He could call Bill, or Mike, or Beverly, or Ben.

(But not Eddie. He can’t call Eddie)

The funny thing is, there’s only one person he wants to call to talk about this, and that person’s gone too.

They never got to reunite. Richie never got to see how Stan had grown, if he’d grown at all, or if he was still Stan, Stan the Man, Stan with his tight curls and his wry smile and his shy, shining eyes.

Why can’t Richie seem to hold onto the people he loves the most?

The cabinet he keeps in his house with the expensive alcohol captures his attention and by the time he’s drunk his problems away, Richie can’t even remember why he’d gotten his phone out in the first place.

* * *

Mike calls all the time, once a week, twice a week. Richie does his best to answer.

He knows Mike is scared they’ll all forget again and that he’ll be left alone with the memories like last time. Richie never tells Mike that he’d almost like that. If he couldn’t remember Eddie, then maybe he would finally stop hurting.

“Where are you at the moment?” Richie asks in their most recent call. Mike has left Derry for better things, better places. He’s exploring America, making his way here and there as it suits him. “Get to Florida yet?”

Mike laughs. “Not yet. I’m on my way to visit Ben and Bev. They asked.”

“Oh.” Richie is at a loss for words for once, because they hadn’t asked him. He only talks to Mike. No one else has bothered to call.

(It’s not like he’s bothered to call either, though)

He pretends it doesn’t hurt, like he pretends losing Eddie and Stan doesn’t hurt, and changes the topic.

* * *

He buys Bill’s latest book when it hits the stores and stays up all night reading it. The ending is a surprise, a happy one where they protagonists learn to cope with their grief and move on to a better life.

Richie finds himself wishing for the usual macabre endings Bill wrote, where nothing was happy and everyone died and nobody was left to mourn who was gone, because they were all gone but at least they were together.

It’s nice that Bill’s moving on.

It’s sad that Richie isn’t.

* * *

When the shows pick up and he can actually make it onto stage without freezing up or puking, Richie relishes in making things as funny and as pain free as possible. He never mentions Eddie or Stan or the losers. His childhood is a topic he seldom breaches in his routines. If people ask for a snippet, he breezes over it easily.

He talks a lot about girlfriends that don’t exist (and never will exist) and makes as many lewd jokes as possible, because they’re funny and make people laugh and nobody ever tells him to shut up.

_Beep beep Richie._

People notice the cracks though. Richie lurks in forums and on Twitter to see what people are saying about him. Apparently he’s shallow, transparent, losing his touch.

It’s funny how that happens when you can’t seem to find the motivation to stay alive.

* * *

Myra calls him one day. It’s sudden and strange, because Richie can’t imagine how she knows him.

“Where’s Eddie?” She blubbers into the phone. A pang of pity hits Richie and he nearly chokes on it.

“I’m sorry, who is this?”

“Don’t play stupid with me, Richie Tozier.” She hisses. “You know damn well who Eddie is. What did you do to him?”

“How do you know?” Richie falters. How did Myra Kaspbrak know he existed?

“You’re in Eddie’s address book.” She answers angrily. “So you had to have known him. You and the others. He has you all specially marked. I know you all went to Derry. I know he never came back. What did you do to him? What did you do to my husband?!” She’s crying now and Richie feels like crying too. She misses him. She doesn’t know what happened to him.

Richie does, and he’s lucky, and he’s not, he’s not lucky at all.

He hangs up because he can’t bear to hear any more of it.

A single thought persists though, even as he turns to alcohol again.

Had Eddie remembered them after all?

* * *

Richie buys Bill’s next book as well, because they’re friends even if they hadn’t spoken since their Derry reunion. This one is another horror story with a happy ending. A character Richie found himself getting attached to dies at the end but the others are alive to mourn him and they are happy to have that chance.

The dedication at the start is what stuns Richie the most.

_Dedicated to Eds. We miss you every day_

Richie spends the night crying and screaming and throwing things around. Bill had no right, no right! Eddie is his. Richie is the one who misses him, mourns for him, is tearing himself apart without him.

Bill’s the one moving on.

Richie isn’t.

* * *

Beverly finally calls so she can invite Richie to her and Ben’s wedding.

“I divorced Tom, finally.” She’s laughing, practically giddy at the knowledge that she’s free. “We’d love to have you there.”

“I’ll see if I’m free.” Richie tries to make the flat statement into a joke, and he finds it doesn’t work.

Beverly pauses. “Hey, Richie…you alright?”

He forces a laugh. “You know me. I’m always fine. Hey, about a deal? I’ll come to your wedding if you come to one of my shows. Let me know an address and I’ll mail you some tickets.”

“Okay, Rich.” Beverly sounds unsure, uncertain but she’ll believe his lies anyway. “Okay. Want to talk to Ben?”

“Maybe next time.” Richie says quickly. Talking to one loser is enough. He doesn’t think he can handle two. “Send me that invite, okay. And the registry. I’m buying you guys the most expensive thing I can find. Whatcha looking for? Sex toys?”

“Beep beep Richie.” Beverly says and it’s all fond and loving, but Richie freezes anyway.

_Beep beep Richie_

“Yeah.” He mutteres. “Beep fucking beep.”

He hangs up before she can ask what’s wrong.

(Everything)

* * *

He was braver back then, back when it felt like he had nothing to lose. It was easy to throw himself into danger, to make jokes and laugh and hit a fucking clown with a baseball bat. He figured that a sad ending was the only ending he deserved and that there was nothing else to do but laugh his way to that ending.

Now, he’s not so sure.

Mike suggest therapy, sly as he does, because he knows Richie won’t talk about it.

It’s not like he has anything else to do, so he goes.

It doesn’t work (or at least, he doesn’t think it does) but at least he has great new material for a show. If he rushes past the whole therapy thing to get to a good joke about feelings being shit, then nobody will stop to wonder why Richie had been there in the first place.

* * *

The next smash hit sensation by Bill Denbrough comes out and for two months, Richie ignores it. When he finally caves and buys it, the dedication is the first thing he flips to.

_For the losers. We deserve a happy ending._

Richie laughs, and he laughs until he’s crying and sobbing and screaming. His heart is being pulled apart and those eight words are rattling around in his head, pressing into him. They’re lies, they’re all lies. Stan didn’t get his happy ending. Eddie didn’t get his.

Richie certainly hasn’t got his.

Then, he notices more words further down the page.

_Even if we don’t always get it._

He puts the pieces together.

_For the losers. We deserve a happy ending, even if we don’t always get it._

Maybe Bill isn’t moving on.

Maybe that’s okay.

Richie wipes his eyes and calls his friend.

* * *

He books another therapy sessions, and then another, and another. He keeps what happens in them private, secret. No more shows about therapy. No more jokes about mental illness. Richie knows he’s fucked up in the worst way but there’s no point in making it funny.

It’s not.

And nobody else should think it is either.

“It takes a while to get out of that self-deprecating mindset.” His therapist explains.

Richie snorts. “I’ll let you know if I ever do.”

When the man gives Richie a stern glare, Richie realises that he’s falling into the same trap again.

It’s a far cry from when he didn’t notice it at all.

* * *

They don’t do reunions. They go to the wedding and they don’t mention Eddie or Stan. They go Richie’s show and he talks about stupid things, things that can’t be tied back to Eddie.

They never go back to Derry.

Richie almost wishes he could. He still hates the idea of Eddie being trapped under Neibolt, all alone in the dark that scared him so much.

Then again, Richie can’t imagine that Eddie actually stayed there.

(Hey, if killer clowns are real, then surely ghosts are as well, and if anyone was going to be a friendly ghost, it was Eddie)

Richie likes to think Eddie left with them, that he’s still with them, with him, with Richie.

And if he isn’t, then he’s somewhere better.

Better than Richie.

Eddie deserves the world, deserves a happy ending.

It fucking sucks that he didn’t get it.

* * *

If Richie was a better person, he might use his platform for advocacy. He might make a stand for those with mental illness, he might actually come out and teach the next generation about the different kinds of love that are all still special and important.

The thing is, Richie isn’t a good person.

He keeps his mouth shut about the right things and talks about the wrong things.

(He thinks the others might be onto him, but at least they’ll let him keep pretending)

* * *

Eddie never got to have a funeral.

Stan did. His family had it while the losers were in Derry fighting clowns. Richie visited his grave once. A little bird was carved into the marble, and that made him strangely happy.

Stan’s at peace.

Eddie, meanwhile, is on a registry somewhere as a missing person and only five people know what ever happened to him, what he sacrificed to keep his friends safe.

Eddie always was the bravest of them all, even if he didn’t realise it.

Richie, meanwhile, is just beginning to realise he’s the biggest coward of them all.

He’s too afraid to move on. Not without Eddie. He can’t do it. It isn’t fair.

* * *

Richie buckles down and starts writing his own material. He still remembers the way Eddie had crowed when he’d found out Richie didn’t write his own shows. It’s stupid, but he wants to prove Eddie wrong.

They’re still fighting, even after all this time.

With encouragement from his therapist and his friends, Richie writes a piece about being a kid in Derry. He writes about how it sucked, how it could be boring and horrible and all the people in it were so backwards. He writes bad jokes about swimming in infected water that turned your brain to mush, and how the place was so dull that their biggest festival celebrated a stupid canal.

But, he also writes about his friends. The losers. He writes about the jokes they played on each other, the way they fought so hard and yet always came back together at the end of the day.

He dedicates ten minutes of the show to Eddie and Eddie alone. Maybe he’s still a little transparent (Tumblr certainly latched onto him talking about Eddie and all the fun they had) but he thinks that maybe, he’s allowed to be.

It’s Eddie, after all.

He deserves to be remembered.

* * *

If he’d been faster, maybe Eddie would still be alive.

If he hadn’t insisted on shouting stupid jokes at Pennywise, maybe Eddie would still be alive.

If he’d just been better, he’s sure Eddie would still be alive.

* * *

“I’m gay.”

“What?”

They’re having a not-reunion because Bill just won an Oscar for best screenplay and it’s the happiest Richie can remember being since Derry. He cried a bit during Bill’s speech but will deny that to his dying day if anyone asks.

The restaurant they’re at is a far cry from the Chinese restaurant they visited in Derry. Richie knows this is by design, but it doesn’t really matter because the small Greek place Beverly found is really nice. It was when he happened to notice the small rainbow flag sitting in a pen pot on reception desk that the words had slipped out.

“I’m gay.” He says again and watches his four friends react to his words.

It’s not like he’s dropped a bombshell or anything. Nobody is crying, or telling him he’s disgusting (not that he thought they would, no really, he trusts them) but they all look a little stunned.

“I’m gay and I'm in love with Eddie.” He says, and the words feel right. It’s the first time he’s ever said them, and even as he starts to cry, cry like he did in the quarry, they do feel right.

“Oh, Richie.” Beverly’s eyes have matching tears.

“Thank you for telling us.” Ben grips Richie’s hand and Richie finds he doesn’t mind the contact.

“I’m proud of you.” Mike says.

“Did he know?” Bill wants to know. “Did Eddie know?”

Richie thinks about it.

“I hope so.” He says finally, because Eddie Kaspbrak deserves to be loved.

* * *

It’s not Richie’s fault that Eddie died.

It’s not.

* * *

Bill’s next book is less of a horror story and more of a found family narrative, with a band of seven kids slowly falling together despite all the hardships in their life. The horror element comes from the different problems the kids face. Abuse, bullying, racism, familial death, homophobia. The kids face it all but they all come out on the other side, alive and happy and together.

The happy ending is needed in this one, and Richie finds that it doesn’t upset him like all the others did.

Bill speaks about the book publicly, says he was tired of watching people fight for a happy ending only to be denied it because apparently that was cheesy and stupid and shallow.

His dedication hurts, like all the others did, but in a good way.

_For Richie and Eds. I know you didn’t get the ending you deserved so I wrote you one_

Bill is moving on.

And finally, slowly but surely, so is Richie.

**Author's Note:**

> An IT Chapter 2 fic written after I saw it last night. This series is so special to me and I just had to write a story dealing with the aftermath. It's long and all over the place but I think that's what recovery is like so I tried to capture that.
> 
> Richie is my favourite character and chapter 2 just reaffirmed that for me. I really hope I did him and his story justice.
> 
> Please leave a comment or kudos if you liked this, and if you want to, check out my other IT fics. Thanks in anticipation.


End file.
